Poem by Robert Herrick

To Laurels

A funeral stone
Or verse, I covet none;
But only crave
Of you that I may have
A sacred laurel springing from my grave:
Which being seen
Blest with perpetual green,
May grow to be
Not so much call'd a tree,
As the eternal monument of me.

1. To Sapho
2. His Teares to Thamasis
3. On Himself (Lost to the world; lost to myself)
4. Upon Julia's Ribbon
5. The Rock of Rubies, and the Quarry of Pearls

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